The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1887-01-02
FAY ON THIS SEA ROCKS.

That child will fall in!' So Nj
Stoneby said, stopping on his seashor
walk. One of the men from the light
house was near; they were both lookIn
seward, toward a chain of slippery
green rocks, where fragile little figure
with short futtering dress, stood wit
both her hands up to hold her hat. Tn
breeze might have blown her away, ha
and all !; she looked light as the seaweec
ard white as the foam.
"She will, sir; she'll get drowned,
said the lighthouse man in the. mos
matter-of-fact way. my old woma,
saysit won't make no difference, TO
she's bound to go off some queerer roaC
than other folks, not being a RICH
child" g"
Mr.. Stoneby looked Mortified. He haC
magnifying glass in his hand from
habit, and he tapped his forehead will
1t. "Brains-eh2 4a83A -fl
Brains, sir She's got brains enough
for two. But she's what the old foil
hereabout call q fairy hangeling-suct
q wien bit of thing she's always been
I'll fetch her of the rocks, sir, or she 1
get drownded. We all know Miss Fay
sir-see her laughing and dancing now
10 brighten me, the mIschief!"
The lighthouse man, treading the
rocks nimbly, brought her to shore.
What were you doing out there
en-" old Peter Stoneby asked sternIy
IN a big voice muff1ed in beard. The
venturesome elf seemed to be well cared
for. She was clad in dark blue, with q
three-cornered glimpse of q white vest
showing where the loose jacket parted
at her neck, aud there were gilt anchors
on the blue ribbons flying behind her
broad straw hat. StoReby thought of
another girl, a little older than she,
whom he might see by chance at Gray
bourne-a threadbare, ragged girl of 9,
whom he would have to own as his
grsndchild.
What were you doing, Miss Fay ?
Tell the gentleman, !" the lighthouse man
urged. He was an old friend, and her
shyness melted. She looked up. 1t was
a face untouched by sunburn, and too
delicate, fine AID thin for a small crea-
ture OF 6 or Z. There was something
wonderfully piquant about the large.
dark-tringed eyes and the little mouth
an6 pointed chin; something In her shy
smile that reminded one of a flicker of
light on a waxen face. "IEEwas a mer-
maid" she said. Three sham mer.
maids live in sham cave under that
rock. l danced when they went out ever
so far to the bright water, where the sun
IS; they always dance there" The
child suddenly realized that the stranger
was listening. She turned her head
away; the curls blew across her cheek
and it flushed with pink like the dawn.
HOW old are you, you young fairy
How old are you, Miss Fay Z" echoed
he lighthouse man. She looked hardly
I'm g. she said, without looking I'M.
'ut trying to stretch her thin legs taller.
She's fairy, sir; isn't she 7"laughed
he man, with his hands in his pocket.
: My old woman's about right"
Mr.. Stoneby was not listening. He
vas looking hard at Fay. Fay on her
part was only attending to the pattern
II the threads in Mr.. Stoaeby's coat. as
'een through the round glass in his
hand. a nervous culver panied the
stranger; 1t was relief not to see her in
'ags, but 1t was pain to recognize his
own daughters look in this face, so new
n the world.
What's your name?''-an abrupt
word In gentle tone.
Fay West"
go home" said the stranger, land
ell your mother that l have come and
am staying at Stokes hotel. -
The lighthouse man stared. FAY
ooked up with big, wondering ewes.
Peter Stoneby turned from them with
lis bearded head bent and his footprints
ieep in the sand, and he walked his own
way alone.
His daughter, Carrie West-how he
lated the name of West! was already |
for him at his hotel, and when
lie returned he found her there. pale. |
'entie, attectionate,- excessively ner-
NOW, father" she said at parting.
the room in the cottage is ready for |
'ou. Come stay with John and me.U
Peter Stoneby'S face seemed to shorten /
Then it redeemed with anger. 1t was an |
I'D sign that his daughter remembered |
lnce she bad last seen him ten wears
go. His lower lip was dragged ND, and |
he gray beard stuck out and Iessened
be length OF that hairy, weather-worn
ace. "Don't name him to me. :" he said
| can better afford to pay nv hotel
ills than he-can afford to entertain
stranger-a stranger to him"
She pressed and entreated. Why
7ould he not forgive, why not take the
reat sorrow away from herlife? John
'as such good husband, such q good
ather, and really the cottage was COW,
nd ae boat bailding trade was
"Ion't talk nonsense, child" said
ne old man, opening the door of the
arlor hotel 70 hint that it was better to
e gone before they quarreled again. 4
lis voice was the sullen prelude to a
Lorm. Il did not come to Graybourne /
j see him."
But you came to see me. Dear
lther, let US be at peace again. Come
nd see rs, any how-to-morrow-do."
81 came to Graybourne to fill a seq
de herbarium growled the testy old
pianist. And yet, as it was ten years
nee he had seen this sweet, blue-eyed
aughter, was it any wonder that he
&C felt particular haukeringafter the
'sside fora of Gray bourHe. .t e 4
Every day Mrs. West left the hand
)me house that was called 1.-THE Cot
Lge, near the boat hiIiiainp ward 1vhara |